


Paragon of Interest

by ZaccRiseC3P



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-05-17 10:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14830449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaccRiseC3P/pseuds/ZaccRiseC3P
Summary: What would happen if Reese always had a weapon, no matter what? What if Finch and Reese could always stay in touch as long as they were both conscious? Would this change how their story played out? In this complex AU, find out what working a number would be like if our heroes were more than just vigilantes.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This story requires a little bit of an explanation, but please don't let that discourage you from continuing to read it! So, Paragon is an original story that I've been working on for a little over a year now. While I was trying to think of ideas for a new Person of Interest story, I thought it would be fun to combine the two worlds into one! The first chapter of this story is an explanation of the Paragon world I've developed over the past 20 months or so whereas the rest of the chapters are a taste of what it might be like if Reese and Finch operated in this world as well. It's set in early Season 2. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to let me know what you think in the comments! Have a nice day :)

Have you ever wondered if there was a world around you that was completely invisible to your eye? A world full of magic and mystery and things that science just couldn’t explain. What if I told you that this world was real, but it's unlike anything you've ever heard before? There’s a certain element of fantasy that goes along with dreaming about a different and exciting world. It’s a very common misconception about what we do as paragon, but it’s a nice thought.

Most of you know we exist, but you fear what we are capable of. You even started the Guardian Initiative- an international police force that specializes in paragon affairs- to protect yourselves from us. The initiative claims to protect humans and paragon alike, but there’s not much evidence for the latter. Our race has been oppressed and denied by society for centuries without regard to who we are as people. We often have to hide in plain sight just to escape the whispers and murmurs about how we are all just demons sent from hell to destroy human life as you know it.

As a matter of fact, there is a group of paragon who call themselves Knaves who have taken those accusations and made them reality. They wish to make you, and even other paragon alike, beneath them and rule over it all with an iron fist. The Knaves are the main reason most of you fear all paragon, including Paladins.

Arguably, Paladins are the exact opposite of Knaves. We fight for peace between all races, and try to make right what the Knaves have wronged. But between human fear and Knave scorn, it constantly feels like we are fighting an uphill battle. 

There are some who would rather not label themselves and walk the streets alone. Commonly referred to as Rogues, these paragon usually focus on one thing: survival. They usually have little regard for human affairs and would rather not associate with Knaves or Paladins. Their most common problem is generally trying to avoid getting killed by the next enemy that crosses their path. Although sometimes, they have no choice but to accept our offer- the arma you’re given as a paragon can’t solve everything.

Arma is Latin for weapon, and that’s exactly what it is. When a paragon is born, they always find a coin on their eighteenth birthday - but of course it’s not just an ordinary coin. This coin possesses a power that only the owner can harness. If tossed into the air by its owner, the coin will transform into a weapon specialized for that paragon. There’s no way to tell which weapon you will receive, but every paragon’s weapon is different - and some are more useful than others, which leads some to rely solely on their elements.

Along with the arma that every paragon has, they also have the ability to harness a certain element. There are seven in total: Fire, Earth, Water, Air, Electricity, Darkness, and Psychic. These elements are assigned to a paragon on their eighteenth birthday just like the arma. It’s revealed when a tattoo of the element’s symbol appears on the paragon’s right wrist. No one knows exactly how we get our specific elements and armis, but that is how it has been for centuries. A paragon then trains with their weapon and element to learn how to use it effectively so that they may survive in the dangerous world that we live in.

However, the Knaves radical idea of tyrannical power isn’t the only thing we have to fight. In addition to that we also have to avoid the monsters that walk the earth. This is one of the main problems you don’t know we face. The creatures themselves usually try to avoid human contact, but sometimes they fail. I’m sure you’ve heard the conspiracy theories and ghost stories about creatures such as the Loch Ness Monster or Bigfoot. The existence of these beasts has been debated for decades by humans, but they are completely unaware that the creatures they have seen are part of the paragon world. The Loch Ness Monster in the paragon world has been widely accepted as a monster known as an aquapens - a vicious, large serpent that gains strength from being in water. Bigfoot on the other hand is speculated to be an illusion created by the creature we call a psychus. This animal is a panther with a mesmerizing fur coat who can trick its target into seeing or hearing things that aren’t there. We assume that one was close to being sighted by a human and created the vision of Bigfoot as a distraction. Those are just a few examples of the monsters we face. There are many more and too many to list which makes our job even harder. Many of them have been documented so we know their weaknesses and what to expect, but a paragon’s most common fear is going up against a creature one doesn’t understand.

Being a paragon is anything but a fantasy. Sure, it’s a world full of adventure and magic and chaos, but when every man is armed with a weapon, there can be no peace. You either fight to make history or die trying.


	2. Another Day, Another Number

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the fun part. What happens when Paragon Finch and Reese get a number? That question is at least partially answered right now.

A paragon’s definition of ‘normal’ tends to change depending on who you talk to. However, John Reese’s definition of the word? Pretty sure even a paragon would call it anything but. A fire paragon working with a psychic paragon to stop crimes before they happen doesn’t really fall within anyone’s parameters of the word ‘normal.’ 

Nevertheless, the Man in the Suit strolled into the Library- his ‘office’ if you will- while trying to be as quiet as possible. Even though he didn’t make a sound, his boss could feel his presence.

“Good morning, Mr. Reese,” the reclusive billionaire greeted as he typed away at his computer.

“You’re here early, Finch. And you look exhausted. Did you sleep at all last night?” the ex-op wondered.

“I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Reese. It is five in the morning, after all,” Finch shot back.

“Yeah well. I couldn’t sleep,” Reese answered.

“Neither could I. In my case, though, it was because of him,” Finch pointed to a picture of a young-looking man taped to the clear board in front of him.

“We have a new number?”

“Warren Miles. 26. Lives alone, his parents live in California. His sister, Chloe, died last week.”

As the words came out of Finch’s mouth, the books he used to decode Miles’ social security number started floating themselves back to the shelves where they belonged- no doubt assisted by the man who owned the building. One of the many perks of holding a psychic element is you don’t have to physically go anywhere to move things.

Unphased by the self-moving books, Reese asked, “Cause of death?”

“She was killed in an explosion in Times Square,” Finch revealed.

“An explosion... You don’t mean the incident, do you?”

“I’m afraid I do.”

News of ‘the incident’ had travelled like a shockwave throughout the paragon community in New York. On Tuesday of the previous week, a huge fight broke out between several paragon in the middle of Times Square. 

Many innocent people were caught in the crossfire- apparently, including Chloe Miles. The fight ended abruptly when a fire paragon caused a massive explosion, killing all involved in the actual fighting in the process. Reese wondered if their current number’s predicament had anything to do with the incident, but he needed more information.

“Huh. Do we know if he’s a paragon himself?”

“As far as I can tell he comes from a family of humans. His sister was profiled as a human when she died and so were their parents in the numerous interviews they gave after the fact.”

“So chances are he’s probably human, too. What does he do for a living?”

“He’s a private investigator. Mostly he helps people find long lost friends and relatives in the city.”

“Were you able to find an office or home address?”

“I was able to locate where he lives.”

“Send me the address. I’ll get eyes on him right away,” Reese suggested. He then slipped out of the Library just as quietly as he came in.

~~~~~~~~~~

Four hours. It took four hours for the number to leave his house after Reese parked outside. Arriving at six in the morning, he wondered what caused Warren Miles to get such a late start that day. As the operative left his car and approached the brownstone where the number resided, he informed his employer to the situation.

 _Ok, Finch, he just left. I’m gonna check out his place, see what I can find_ , Reese thought- which was all he had to do for his partner to know what was going on.

Another perk of being a psychic: you don’t have to use a phone to communicate with people. After he built The Machine, Finch had spent years trying to figure out how to communicate with his operatives on a secure network and it turned out, it was in his head the whole time. 

Psychic paragon have a unique ability that allows them to create mental connections with people and talk to them through thoughts as if they were on the phone. For Finch, this meant that he could always be in contact with Reese and his detectives as long as they were conscious. 

_Let me know if you find anything of use_ , the fugitive hacker instructed.

Reese approached the building, trying to blend in. Using a bump key to force the door open, he let himself in and started scanning his surroundings. The first floor was an open layout with scarce furniture. 

On the far end of the single-room floor there was a bland desk with an office chair behind it and an even more uncomfortable-looking chair in front of it. In the front of the house by the entrance, there were several couches and a coffee table set up for what appeared to be a waiting room.

 _This must be his office, too_ , Reese observed half for his boss and half to himself.

That explained why their number didn’t leave the house until ten in the morning; he was probably working. Thinking it best to get eyes and ears on the number as soon as possible, Reese placed a bug underneath the client chair in front of the desk and mounted a small camera on the smoke alarm. From there, the camera would have a wide enough view to see the whole floor.

 _Alright, the bug and camera are installed, Finch_ , Reese updated.

 _Yes, the feeds just came on_ , Finch’s voice echoed in his mind. It had become a comfort of sorts for Reese to know that his backup was just a thought away. He much preferred it to their old style of communication, just a phone call and a bluetooth earpiece, which often got lost or broken. 

Using the mental phoneline Finch created allowed them to communicate at all times, even when Reese was in danger, which kept the billionaire’s nerves at bay. Although sometimes Reese would become too focused on their conversations and zone out to the point where people would get worried, but that was a minor side effect.

Of course, it took awhile for the two to get used to it at first. They had worked together for almost a full year before Finch decided to inform his employee that he possessed this ability. But that wasn’t unusual for him considering how upfront he was about his trust issues. 

It probably wasn’t easy for the self-conscious coder to open up and let Reese in. Luckily for Reese, the mental connection that enables them to communicate is controllable so Finch can only hear the thoughts Reese wants him to hear and vise versa. He didn’t want his boss to hear all the thoughts he was having about gaining his trust and end up scaring him into shutting down again.

Reese continued his recon and started combing through the number’s desk. A few files that sat next to a laptop caught the trained man’s eye which he flipped through to get an understanding of the PI’s caseload. There were three profiles, all pretty thin, which included the client’s name, who they needed Miles to find, and a short description of why.

 _Finch, I’m sending you a few names. They look like cases Miles is working on. Might have something to do with why we got his number_ , Reese suggested as he snapped pictures of the cases. With the tap of his phone screen, he texted the pictures he took to the eccentric billionaire. Finch simply confirmed he received the pictures before the ex-soldier turned his attention to Miles’ laptop.

 _Do you need assistance with the password?_ Finch asked.

Reese was momentarily alarmed by his boss’ comment- he was pretty sure he hadn’t mentioned the laptop yet- before remembering that he had just installed a camera above the desk.

 _I don’t think so. I have a feeling it’s_ … Reese trailed off as he typed. _Got it. His password was ‘Chloe’. A tribute to his sister._

The two of them stayed silent, even in their heads, as Reese copied all of Miles’ files and emailed them to Finch to sift through while the ex-spy continued his sweep of the brownstone; his next step was to check upstairs. After he was finished with the laptop, Reese closed it and arranged everything exactly as he remembered finding it. Satisfied that he had recon-ed the floor thoroughly enough, the Man in the Suit made his way upstairs.

Right away, Reese noticed that the second floor was just as dull as the first floor. There were only three bedrooms, one of which was turned into a kitchen, and a bathroom. Both remaining bedrooms were so minimalistic that the trained operative couldn’t tell which room their number actually slept in. He managed to figure it out when he spotted a small family portrait on a dresser in one of the rooms. As he was scrounging around in the drawers checking for anything out of the ordinary, Reese heard the door open downstairs and two voices carrying through the house.

 _That was quicker than I expected_ , Reese thought. Before he made his escape, Reese stood at the top of the stairs hoping that it would be close enough to pair with the number’s phone. 

Immediately after his phone confirmed the connection was established, the seasoned mercenary climbed out the bedroom window and down the fire escape.

While walking back to the car, Reese picked up the microphone from the phone pairing and started listening to Miles’ conversation with whoever he brought into his office.

“So does this mean you found him?” A woman’s voice asked.

“I believe so. You said his name was Cameron, correct?” Miles’ clarified.

“Yes, yes. Cameron Fields,” the woman added.

John kept one ear on the conversation while asking, _Finch, do you have anything on a Cameron Fields?_

 _Yes, I do. He’s one of the people Mr. Miles was tracking for a client. His name was on one of the files you sent me earlier_ , the hacker answered.

_What did you find out about him?_

_Nothing that sheds light on our PI’s situation. The woman who was looking for him, Camille Survos, is the boy’s mother. They were estranged after she was forced to give him up for adoption. If one of his cases is the source of the threat, I highly doubt it’s this one_.

With that conclusion, Finch and Reese halted their conversation and continued to listen.

“Your son now works at a local bookstore here in Queens,” Miles informed his client.

“Did you approach him?” Survos wondered.

“I did. He seemed curious to meet you,” Miles reported.

“‘Curious’ in a good way?” Survos hoped.

“Yes,” Miles reassured. “He was very anxious to get in touch with you. He even gave me his phone number and told me to give it to you.”

There was a slight pause, presumably for Miles to hand over the phone number.

“Thank you so much, Warren. I should have come to you a lot sooner,” Survos admitted.

“No problem, it’s my job,” Miles replied.

A few seconds after the conversation wrapped up, Survos came out of the brownstone, jumped into her car, and drove off. Miles wasn’t far behind. Following his client’s timely exit, the PI climbed into his own car and sped away as well.

 _Miles just drove away. I’m gonna follow him to his destination. Maybe he’s meeting another client_ , Reese noted.

The drive ended up being only about fifteen minutes. Miles parked in a prime spot outside a small restaurant, but he wasn’t there for lunch. As soon as he pulled up, the hired investigator started taking pictures of someone inside the restaurant from his car. Reese parked directly across the street and thought he spotted Miles’ target.

 _Finch, can you get an ID on this guy?_ The trained man asked as he took and sent the picture of the target.

_Yes, that is Francis Nilton, another name from one of the files you sent. Not many details on his case, though. Just that Miles was hired by a woman named Victoria Waters._

_Miles hasn’t approached Nilton yet. He’s just surveilling him_ , Reese briefed.

 _Did you say he’s surveilling him?_ Finch clarified.

_Yeah, why?_

_No reason. Just seems redundant. You surveilling the surveillor._

_That thought already crossed my mind. Trust me, you never realize how boring surveillance is until you watch someone else do it._

Conversation ceased as Miles’ target exited the restaurant and headed east. Miles waited a few seconds to give Nilton some space before jumping out of his own car and following him.

 _Nevermind, Finch. Our guy is now on the move_ , the ex-op recanted as he got out of his car. Quickly, he crossed the street to catch up to their number. It was time to continue this pursuit on foot.


	3. One of Them

The art of pursuit is a tricky one, but it’s an art with which John Reese has a lot of practice. Sadly for John, their private investigator had quite a bit of experience himself. Empty sidewalks made the already difficult task even more dangerous- if Reese got too close he risked being made, but if he stayed too far back he risked losing his mark.

The ex-operative managed to find a balanced distance after about a block. He stayed on Miles for a little more than two blocks before something went wrong. Nilton, Miles’ target, took a quick turn into an ally- a dead end. Reese quickened his pace to catch up when his boss decided to check in.

 _Mr. Reese, you’ve been quiet. What’s going on?_ Finch asked, worry evident in his thought.

_Miles just followed his target into an isolated ally way. I think I just found the threat, Finch._

At this point Reese was in a full sprint. As he approached the ally where his number disappeared, he heard a very distressed voice shout, “Who are you? Why are you following me?”

Reese could only assume that Miles’ tailing skills weren’t as good as he had first thought. When the Man in the Suit turned the corner, he saw a scene that was all too familiar to him: a man with a gun pointed at another man’s head.

“I’m a private investigator,¨ Miles answered calmly with his hands up. ¨I was hired by your wife to track you down.”

Nilton shifted the gun in his hand as if he was debating whether or not to pull the trigger. With limited options, Reese opted for the one that ended without bullets.

¨Hey,¨ Reese said as he approached the two men.

Nilton panicked and turned his aim to Reese. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“Consider me a concerned third party,” Reese answered. He took another step forward so that he was within striking distance of the distressed man.

“Stay back!” Nilton warned. “I’ll shoot you!”

“No you won’t,” John responded confidently. “You’re safety’s still on.”

Nilton’s look of confusion only lasted for a second before Reese grabbed the gun by the barrel and twisted it from the smaller man’s grasp. Reese didn’t even hesitate before he pistol-whipped Nilton with his own gun, sending him crumbling to the ground.

“Crap, what the hell was that?” Miles exclaimed.

Reese bent down and started zip-tying Nilton’s wrists behind his back, “A troubled man on the edge that was about to snap.”

“No, I mean what the hell was that,” Miles reiterated while mimicking a punch.

“He was going to hurt someone. I had to stop him somehow,” Reese answered while propping Nilton up against the wall.

“Ok, so what now?” Miles asked.

“I have a friend in the NYPD who can take care of this.”

“You’re a cop?”

“Not exactly…” Reese hesitated.

“What the hell are you, then?”

“A guy who was at the right place at the right time,” Reese responded, phone in hand. He dialed Detective Carter’s number and waited for an answer.

“Hello?” Carter greeted.

“Good morning, Detective. I need a favor,” Reese stated.

“A legal one, I hope?”

“This time.”

“I’ll ignore that. What do you need?”

“I have a suspect here in Queens I need you to pick up.”

“A suspect of what?”

“He tried to kill someone we’re helping.”

“I can’t send someone out there until you have proof that he tried to kill your guy.”

“You’ll be called in to a shooting.”

“Did he shoot at anyone?”

Reese lifted the gun he took from Nilton and shot two bullets into the brick wall behind him before field-stripping the weapon and dropping it on the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Miles shouted.

“John…”

“He did now,” Reese answered.

Carter sighed, “Alright, I’ll get someone to pick him up. Just try to keep your head down, John- although I know that’s practically impossible for you. This paragon incident has the whole city on edge.”

“I’ll be careful. Take care, Carter,” Reese promised before hanging up.

After talking to his friend on the force, John turned his attention back to his employer for an update, _Finch, I apprehended the threat. I’ll be back at the Library soon._

 _Not so fast, Mr. Reese_ , the billionaire warned. _I’m not sure that Nilton was the only threat._

_What makes you say that?_

_The Machine only detects acts of premeditation. This crime wasn’t thought through at all, it was an act of self-defense. Whatever Mr.Miles’ situation is, something tells me it’s ongoing._

_Alright, I’ll stay with him a little longer_ , Reese resigned.

By the time Reese zoned back in from his thought conversation, Miles was gone. Emerging from the ally, Reese found that Miles hadn’t gotten very far.

“Hey!” Reese shouted, trying to get his attention. Either Miles was ignoring him or he didn’t know that John was talking to him. Reese decided to discard the cautious approach, “Miles!”

That got his attention. The PI stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, “How do you know my name?”

Reese caught up to him before answering the question with a question, “Do you want me to answer that or do you want me to help you?”

“Help me? I don’t even know you!” Miles exclaimed. “Who are you?”

“Who I am isn’t important right now. I have information that your life could be in danger.”

“Danger? I’m sorry, did you not just see the lunatic waving a gun at me? I could always be in danger! I never know who my clients are going to ask me to track down, but it’s the job I signed up for,” Miles insisted.

“I understand that, but trust me, my source of information is never wrong,” Reese pushed.

Miles hesitated for a second before asking, “You’re not gonna leave me alone until this ‘danger’ goes away, are you?”

“Probably not,” Reese admitted.

“Fine. I’ll stick with you for now,” Miles grumbled. “But only because you helped me with Nilton. Speaking of which, what’s going to happen to him?”

“The NYPD will pick him up and probably question him for a while.”

“Ok, I guess I’ll inform my client to the situation,” Miles sighed.

“Good idea. Meanwhile, we have to figure out why you’re in trouble,” Reese urged.

“Like I told you, my cases could always lead to trouble. I never know what I’m getting myself into until I start investigating.”

“Are any of the cases you’re working now particularly life threatening?”

“Not exactly. Although…” Miles trailed off.

“Although what?”

“I do have one case that I’m not sure about. This guy, I think his name was Duncan something, asked me to track down a paragon for him. I usually don’t take jobs that involve paragon but business has been really slow. I needed the money.”

“Do you have any leads on this paragon case?”

“Yeah, one. There’s a bar not far from here that’s very popular. It’s owned by a paragon so a lot of them hang out there. Normally I wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that but it’s my only lead.”

 _‘A place like that’?_ Reese thought to himself. _What’s that supposed to mean?_

“Ok, let’s go check it out,” Reese encouraged, trying to hide his doubts.

“Wait, ‘go’? So now you’re working this case with me?” Miles wondered.

“If this case is the reason you’re in harm’s way then yes, I’m working this case with you.”

“Alright, fine. Whatever. But I’m not splitting the payout with you,” Miles asserted before storming off.

“Where are you going?”

“To follow up on the lead,” Miles opened the door to his car. “You coming or what?”

Without another word, Reese followed Miles and climbed into the passenger side of the car. He then proceeded to use the short drive as an opportunity to update Finch.

_I have Miles, Finch. He took a little more convincing than I thought he would. We’re headed to a local bar to follow up on a lead for one of his cases._

_I’m aware, Mr. Reese. I can still hear your conversations through the paired phone, remember_ , Finch chided.

_Right, I keep forgetting about that. Have you found anything useful in those files I sent you?_

_Not quite. Most of these cases are pretty thin. I was, however, able to find out the name of the target in the case you’re working. Her name is Jane Aldridge. She’s a paragon from the Bronx. I’m gathering more information on her now_ , the hacker informed.

 _Ok, well work fast. This guy doesn’t seem to like paragon very much_ , the trained soldier remarked.

_I’ve gathered that from your previous conversation with him. In the meantime, I suggest you stick to your traditional firearm. Something tells me Mr. Miles wouldn’t be too fond of accepting help from us if he knew what we were._

_Way ahead of you on that one._

_Be careful, Mr. Reese._

As conversation ceased, Miles parked the car on the left side of the street across from a seemingly average looking bar. The two men got out of the car as Reese asked, “So this paragon of yours. Do you know for a fact that they come here?”

“No, that’s why we’re here. I need more information on this girl.”

Considering it was eleven thirty in the morning on a Tuesday, business was good. There were five people sitting at the bar as well as a few small parties taking up the booths. Reese and Miles took the only table against the wall facing the door so they could survey incoming patrons.

“I’m going to ask the bartender a few questions,” Miles suggested.

“Ok, you go. I’ll stay here and watch the door,” Reese decided.

Miles nodded before standing up and making his way over to the bar. Eyes glued to the door, the Man in the Suit quickly realized that he didn’t know who he was looking for. He knew the girl’s name but he had no clue what her appearance was. Luckily for John, Miles came back before anyone else came into the building.

“That was quick,” Reese observed.  
“Yeah. The bartender recognized the girl by name. I didn’t even have to elaborate. Apparently she’s a regular, comes in every day at noon for lunch,” Miles reported.

“Did he give you a description?” Reese hoped the answer was ‘yes.’

“Sure did. Said we could probably recognize her by her bright red hair and forearm tattoo of angel’s wings. Shouldn’t be too many people who fit that description,” Miles added.

They had their target, they had her ETA, the only thing left to do was wait. This unfortunately allotted Reese a lot of time to psych himself out. His mind started to wander, worrying that their current situation was mostly likely going to end poorly. Hypothetically, it was possible that this whole thing would simply be conversations and getting information- basic recon. 

Of course, there was also the chance that this Jane Aldridge would not be willing to talk to a private investigator which would lead to a more dangerous encounter, to say the least. But in this case it wasn’t the fight itself that made Reese uneasy, it was how the fight was going to play out. 

What if Jane pulled out her arma or tried to use her element? Would Reese be able to protect himself and Miles with just a simple .45 and close quarters? What if he couldn’t keep up the act and he was forced to show what he was? Would Miles react with as much hostility as Reese feared? The seasoned mercenary was about to find out.

“Here comes our girl,” Miles observed.

The bartender greeted their target as soon as she walked in. She immediately took a seat at the bar and simply asked for her usual. If there was a time for conversation, it was probably now. Miles gave Reese a subtle “come with me” look before getting up and joining their target at the bar. Hesitantly, the ex-op followed his man and sat on the opposite side of the girl from Miles.

“What the hell do you want?” Aldridge asked as soon as Miles sat down. There was a specific tension in the air that Reese noticed. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he could tell something was off.

“What do I want? Preferably a drink,” Miles answered. “Can’t a guy go to a local restaurant for a drink?”

“Sure he can. But out of all the places in the city, you had to pick here?”

“Why not?” Miles responded coyly.

“You know exactly ‘why not,’ Warren,” She added his name as if it was a curse word. “I know who you are, and I’m not gonna tell you jack.”

Reese only had a split second to ponder how Aldridge already knew their PI’s name before their target pounced. She swiftly elbowed Miles in the face, sending him falling straight back off his stool. He looked dazed and in pain, but he’d live. 

Aldridge then quickly turned her attention to Reese and kicked her stool out of the way before shooting a softball-sized fireball at her assailant’s chest. It burned through his white dress shirt but dissipated when it hit skin; you can’t fight fire with fire. Seeing the attack of opportunity, Reese tried to throw a punch to the side of Aldridge’s face. The fire paragon blocked the attack with ease but it left her midsection vulnerable, allowing John to kick her in the stomach and send her stumbling into empty bar stools. 

John attempted to make his next move when he felt a force keeping him in place. It wasn’t a physical force, it was a mental one. When Reese looked to his right he saw the bartender with his hands up, pointed at Reese and Aldridge.

 _I hate psychic paragon_ , Reese thought to himself, careful to make sure his connection to Finch wasn’t active.

“I don’t tolerate fighting in my bar,” the man stated. “You two either figure out this little argument without violence or I’m calling the cops.”

Before Reese could respond, he heard the door open and saw Miles rushing out of the restaurant. He quickly responded, “There’s no need for that. My friend and I were just leaving.”

The bartender gave Reese a dirty look and responded, “Fine, but if I see you in here again, I won’t be so generous,” before releasing his mental grip on him.

The Man in the Suit then raced after his number. He came out of the building and spotted Miles across the street about to get into his car. John shouted, “Miles! Hold on!”

The PI turned around and answered, “You lied to me. The way her fire disappeared when it hit you? You’re one of them. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you to begin with. I’ll solve this case myself. Don’t even think about following me.” He then climbed into his car and drove off, leaving John standing in the middle of the street with no lead and no way home. The trained soldier started walking to the sidewalk as he updated his employer.

 _Finch, I just lost Miles. The encounter at the bar went sideways. He figured out that I’m a paragon_ , Reese recalled.

_Any idea where he’s headed?_

_Presumably to continue this case. I should probably change shirts before I go looking for him…_

_What? Why?_

_I’ll explain when I get back to the Library. See you in thirty minutes_ , the ex-op said briefly. His toughest challenge now would be finding a quick way to get there.


	4. Desperate Measures

There was a lot of work to be done. The genius hacker had been working at his computer since he finished his brief conversation with his associate. He had already dug up several pieces of information that could help them track their number, but there were still enough gaps to make the exact location a mystery. 

Silence filled the Library until the seventy pound malinois shepherd that was lying peacefully in his bed pounced to charge the man that had “adopted” him over a month prior. Finch vaguely heard his partner command their dog to lay back down before saying, “You’re back.”

“Made it out in one piece,” Reese added.

The billionaire lifted his head from his computer to see the large burn mark left on Reese’s shirt from the bar fight. “Oh dear, what happened?”

“Met another fire paragon at the bar. Needless to say she wasn’t very interested in talking,” Reese explained.

“You didn’t use your weapon, did you?”

“I didn’t have to. Besides, the last thing I needed was to draw extra attention to the situation.”

Reese wasn’t just being overly paranoid in his hesitation to use his arma- although that was no doubt a part of it. But mostly, he was being cautious in activating what has become known as an arma beacon. Transforming a small coin into a full-sized weapon of any kind takes a great deal of force. Paragon are trained to sense when that energy is released so in Reese’s case, without knowing who was around the restaurant, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“And you’re not hurt?” Finch worried.

The Man in the Suit walked over to a drawer behind his boss’ desk and grabbed a clean shirt out of it before answering, “No, luckily for me a fire element only works one way; you can burn but you can’t get burnt.”

Finch was only partially paying attention to what Reese was saying because he was more caught up on the random drawer of clean white shirts he didn’t know was in his library. “When did you put those there?”

“After Riley Cavanaugh shot me a few weeks ago. Figured it couldn’t hurt to have them here.”

“Fair enough,” the older man conceded, turning back to his computers.

“Have you found anything that could help us track Miles down again?” Reese asked while switching shirts.

“As a matter of fact I have. Since the first two cases you sent me were resolved shortly after you got eyes on Mr. Miles I took a more detailed look at case number three.”

Reese circled around the desk and planted himself in front of the glass board that now held a picture of their number, two of his clients, and three targets.

“Did you find anything we could use?” The ex-op asked.

“I’m not quite sure what to make of it yet, but I did find something of interest: Duncan Morter, the man that supposedly hired Miles to track down Jane Aldridge, doesn’t exist.”

“He- what?”

“I wasn’t able to find a single trace of him online. I couldn’t even verify his social security number!”

“So what does that mean?” Reese questioned.

“I wondered the same thing, so I took a closer look at Miles’ laptop. Most of the files were encrypted, but I was able to find this,” Finch gestured for his partner to come around the desk and look at the computer screen.

Reese made his way over and upon seeing the screen asked, “What is it?”

“As far as I can tell, it appears to be surveillance, including photos and notes, of at least five paragon, including Ms. Aldridge.” Finch then scrolled through several photos, clearly taken from places where the photographer couldn’t be spotted, of the woman Reese had fought in the bar and others he didn’t recognize.

“Do we know who the other four paragon are?” Reese asked.

“Not exactly. Their names were in Miles’ notes. I enlisted Detective Fusco’s help to identify them. He-” the explanation was cut off by the ringing of a phone. “Speaking of the good detective.”

“‘Good’ is a stretch,” Reese smirked as Finch reached for the phone. The billionaire gave the operative a disapproving look before hitting “answer.”

“What have you got for us, Detective?” Finch greeted.

“Where the hell did you get these names you asked me to look into?” Fusco asked over the phone.

“Oh no, what’s wrong?”

“More like what isn’t wrong. Every single one of these guys is a criminal. Wanted for arms trafficking, possession with intent, even three armed robberies; one of which ended in murder. The police have been trying to catch this gang for years.”

“Do they have any leads?” Reese asked.

“As of right now, no. They thought they nailed them last week for this Times Square mess but they couldn’t prove their involvement.”

“Wait, the Times Square incident?” Reese echoed as he started to piece something together. “Miles’ sister was killed in that explosion.”

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Finch adds.

“If he was looking into the gang himself,” Reese trailed off.

Finch picked up where Reese left off, “then Miles faked the client as a cover story.”

“That’s the threat, Finch. Aldridge said she already knew who Miles was and that she wouldn’t tell him anything. They’re gonna kill him for investigating them.”

“What are you two talking about?” The detective asked.

“Nothing. Thank you for your help, Detective,” Finch said hastily before hanging up.

“We have to track down this gang. It’s the only lead we have,” Reese stated.

“And how exactly do you expect to find them?”

The Man in the Suit went eerily quiet for a second. A wave of worry washed over his employer. He knew exactly how he expected to find this criminal gang.

“Mr. Reese…”

“Well we did save his life. He owes us something.”

“Yes and after we saved his life he tried to kill you, and a baby, and start a war by killing five crime bosses. Must I continue?”

“I know but we’re kind of out of options here, Finch. And he knows the criminal landscape of this city better than anyone.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one that has to visit him in prison.”

“What’s the matter, Harold? You forget to brush up on your chess skills?”

~~~~~~~~~~

The buzzer rung indicating that the doors were about to open for a visitor. Finch walked into the private visitor’s room of the prison where he saw a familiar face sitting at a table already set up for a game of chess. Cautiously, the hacker took his seat across from an old frenemy: Carl Elias.

“It’s good to see you, Harold. How’s our friend John doing? Staying out of trouble, I hope?” The conman inquired.

“John’s well. Although trouble has always had a way of finding him,” Harold answered vaguely.

“Referring to another one of your noble crusades, I assume,” Elias wondered.

“Yes, about that,” Harold responded slowly.

“You need my help again,” the criminal guessed. A small smile crossed his face that worried Harold for one reason: Elias knew he was right.

“My associate and I did save your life once,” Harold reminded him.

“Sure, but I paid my debt for that.”

“The way I recall it, you retracted that favor and extorted information from John by locking him in a freezer truck.”

“Ok, I suppose I do owe you something after that. So what can I do for you?’

“Our newest ‘crusade’ as you call it was tracking down a dangerous street gang when we lost him earlier this morning. We were hoping you could help us find him?’

“And how could I do that?”

“Well you are somewhat notorious for your knowledge of the criminal world in New York.”

“You’re assuming I know how to track this gang?”

“Would we be wrong in our assumption?”

“Depends on the gang.”

“They appear to be a group of paragon who operate in Queens. We’ve identified five members already. The police believe they had something to do with the Times Square incident last week.” 

“Ah, yes, the ‘Times Square Crew’ as people are now calling them. I’ve had some run-ins with them. They always try to be so flashy, wanting to cause chaos and make headlines. They don’t understand the value of staying in the shadows,” Elias stated as he pointed at the ceiling. 

Instantly, the light was sucked from the room as if the dark corners grew and engulfed the small amount of light there was. When Elias dropped his hand the light returned. Finch couldn’t help but think how apt it was for a man obsessed with staying in the figurative shadows having the ability to control the literal ones.

Noting the point Elias was trying to make, Harold continued their conversation, “Do you know how we can find them?” 

“I’ve had a few of my men keep tabs on them. As of right now, they should be working out of a building on the corner of 81st and 170th, right past St. John’s University. On the last Tuesday of every month they receive a large weapons shipment there, which it just so happens to be today.”

Finch quickly updated his asset with the address, _Mr. Reese, the gang is operating out of a building in Queens at 81st and 170th._

_I’m on my way, the operative assured._

Despite Finch’s sudden silence, Elias had a few questions of his own. “What’s your man’s interest in these paragon, anyway?”

“We’re not completely sure, although we believe it has something to do with the death of his sister. He’s driven by revenge and very determined, which makes him very dangerous.”

“Trying your hand at stopping an all-out paragon war, are we?"

“More like trying to stop one human from getting himself killed.”

“Your guy is a human?” Elias clarified. “Well you and John sure do like a challenge.”

“Yes, trying to help someone who hates you before they know you is quite difficult.”

“People do tend to hate what they don’t understand,” Elias agreed. “Now,” the cunning crime boss moved his third pawn from the left up two spaces. “Are we going to waste time talking or are we going to play?”

~~~~~~~~~~

 _Mr. Reese, are you at the location I sent you?_ The fugitive hacker checked in.

 _Been here for about half an hour. I’ve seen five people including Aldridge go into the building_ , the mercenary updated. He was waiting patiently in his car, keeping a close eye on all the visible entrances to the building.

_Has anyone come out?_

_No, no one’s left since I got here_ , Reese answered. There was a slight pause before Finch said anything else.

 _Oh no_ , Finch responded suddenly.

_What’s wrong?_

_I was going through Mr. Miles’ laptop again to see if there was anything we missed and I found something quite alarming._

_And what’s that?_

_He had an encrypted file buried in all of his other data. When I cracked the encryption I found two documents._

_What do the documents say_

_The first one lists the address of the building you’re currently watching along with the current time and the words ‘weapon shipment.’_

_What does that mean?_

_I’m not sure. Elias informed me that the gang receives a weapons shipment on the last Tuesday of every month._

_Little bit of an overkill for a race born with a weapon to get a whole shipment of them…_

_Be that as it may, that wasn’t even the most worrying piece of information on here. The second document is a blueprint that highlights the weak points of the same building. I can’t figure out why he- oh dear._

_What is it?_

_He’s planning on attacking the gang before the weapons come in tonight. Mr. Reese, you have to stop him._

Reese didn’t even have time to process what Finch was telling him. A dark figure entered the building as the billionaire finished his piece and Reese knew who it was.

_Too late for that. I think Miles just made his move, Finch. I’m going in after him._

The Man in the Suit climbed out of his car and approached the headquarters. When he got to the door, he noticed that the lock was already broken, the door cracked slightly; so he decided to let himself in. He found himself in a very dark corridor with no windows and solid concrete walls. The only light that was leaking into the hallway was coming from two doors up ahead. As Reese approached the closest door- the one to his left- he heard a voice shout, “You again?!” the trained spy recognized the voice as Jane Aldridge. “I thought I ditched you back at the bar!”

Reese figured now was as good a time as any to crash this little party. He stepped into a small empty room with brick walls and concrete floors to see something much more troubling than he had imagined: Miles pointing a small handgun at five paragon. 

_This guy’s in over his head._

Reese couldn’t fathom why the gang hadn’t attacked Miles yet, but he thought it best to try to talk the man down before something really bad happened. Suddenly, one of the paragon did reach for his arma, and Reese learned why they hadn’t made a move yet.

“Make another move and I swear I’ll kill us all,” Miles warned as he held up a remote-looking device. Recognizing the device as an explosive detonator, the Man in the Suit decided to make his presence known.

“Miles, you don’t have to do this,” Reese cautioned.

“What the-?” Miles stuttered. Clearly he didn’t know who he was dealing with. “I warned you not to follow me.”

“Looks like I was right to,” Reese stated. “You’ve gotten yourself in quite a mess.”

“This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does if you’re going to kill innocent people.”

Miles scoffed, “You call these people innocent? They’re criminals! They deserve what’s coming to them.”

The detonator shifted in Miles’ hand, indicating that his trigger finger was getting itchy.

_Let’s try a different approach._

“I know how it feels to want someone dead. Especially because you blame them for the death of someone you love. But revenge won’t bring your sister back. Please. Put the detonator down.”

The distressed man froze, weighing his options carefully. Sadly, the paragon who reached for his arma moments before became even more impatient.

“Screw this,” he exclaimed.

The impatient one then made a pushing motion with his hand in Miles’ direction which was all it took to send the man flying.

Another psychic? Give me a break. 

The PI landed on his side with a thud and the detonator clattered to the ground. Reese reacted on instinct and pulled his .45 from his waistband, shooting the psychic and the paragon standing next to him in the kneecap. Both men crumbled to the ground in pain.

_Two down, three to go._

As Reese went to take aim at the next paragon, his .45 was ripped from his hand, flew across the room, and smacked against the wall. He turned in time to see a second psychic paragon throwing her coin in the air and swiftly catching her armis- three six-pointed shuriken stars- which she then threw at Reese in unison. 

The ex-op reached for his own weapon which he kept in his right hand pocket, but as he grabbed it he felt a slicing pain in the back of his hand, causing him to drop the coin. It took him a second to realize that one of the shurikens had slit the back of his hand open. He only had time to brace himself before a water paragon charged him and landed a powerful punch in the center of Reese’s chest. 

The attack sent Reese flying and he landed on the ground flat on his back. Water exploded from the paragon’s fist on impact, leaving the mercenary gasping for air after feeling as if he had been hit with the force of a waterfall. Waterfall Fist hovered over Reese, telegraphing another attack. He pulled his fist back, clearly aiming at the operatives head this time. Reese barely had enough time to roll out of the way as the fist came crashing down, again exploding on impact. 

With no arma and his .45 on the other side of the room, Reese had to fall to his last resort. He didn’t like using fire to harm people- he knew it could leave permanent scars- but desperate times call for desperate measures. He quickly lifted his hand in Waterfall Fist’s direction and shot a fireball just big enough to engulf the man’s arm. 

As the paragon screamed in agony, Reese tackled him to gain an advantage. With the paragon pinned down, Reese started to wail on him. It only took three punches to knock the guy out, but as Reese was about to let up, he felt a force tugging at him, and suddenly he was sent flying into the wall just as easily as his .45 was. He landed hard on the concrete which only added to the daze he felt due to the initial impact into the wall. Getting to his hands and knees, he was starting to gain focus back when he felt someone kick him back to the ground.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Aldridge’s voice said from above him.

The Man in the Suit wasn’t going to entertain a response, but seeing his arma within arm’s reach, he thought it might serve better as a distraction. “Quitting was never one of my strong suits.”

Immediately, the operative grabbed his arma, kicked Aldridge’s feet out from under her, and sat up on one knee before throwing his coin up in the air, catching the semi-automatic assault rifle that took its place, and shooting Jane as well as the remaining psychic paragon in the knee. One unconscious and four knee-capped paragon later, there was no one else standing other than Reese and Miles- who was currently sitting against the back wall cowering in fear.

Reese walked over to the PI and kneeled down next to him, “Are you going to trust me now?’

All the terrified man could do was nod in silence.

“Then come on,” Reese insisted as he pulled the man to his feet.

“Where are we going?”

“Some place safe.”


	5. The Cycle Starts Again

The safehouse door screeched open and Miles and Reese stepped into an ornately decorated apartment

“Wow this place is… weird.” Miles observed. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere safe,” a voice said from behind a wall. Finch then stepped out into the living area which allowed Miles to put a face to the voice.

“This guy is just as forthcoming as you are,” Miles snorted, his comment aimed at the man who stood behind him. “Who the hell is he?”

“He’s my uh- partner,” Reese answered. He refused to offer up any more details.

“Another non-answer,” Miles resided as he took a seat on the couch.

“Who we are isn’t important, Mr. Miles. What is important is that we get you out of the city before the ‘friends’ you’ve made come after you again.” The billionaire turned his attention to his employee and directed, “Mr. Reese, perhaps you could go inform Detective Carter of the situation in Queens. I’m sure her and Detective Fusco could take care of that matter for us.”

Without a word, the ex-op nodded in understanding and headed into one of the bedrooms to make the call, leaving his boss to talk to the number alone. Finch then returned to his laptop which was sitting on the dining room table just a few feet away. He sat down to finish the last minute details on their plan to get their number out of the city and away from the situation he had put himself in when Miles broke the silence.

“That wasn’t the whole gang, you know,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Pardon?” Finch asked, looking up from the screen.

“The five members your ‘partner’ there saved me from,” Miles clarified. “That’s not the whole gang. And I won’t leave this city until I see them all pay for what they did,” his expression turned to one of determination.

“Mr. Miles, I’ve looked into their criminal activity very thoroughly. I found no solid indication that any of them were involved in the Times Square incident that killed your sister.”

“It doesn’t matter. They’re just as responsible for it,” Miles asserted as he stood up and started pacing around the apartment.

“And how does that follow?” Finch wondered.

“Paragon are all just different brands of the same cruelty. Most of them are killers in their own right.”

“Is that how you see my associate and I? As killers?”

“I couldn’t say. I don’t even know you, or why the hell you’re helping me.”

“You say you can’t judge us because you don’t know us, but didn’t you just condemn people you don’t know as murderers?”

“That’s different. I have evidence that they’re criminals.”

“But you didn’t say they were responsible for your sister’s death because they were criminals. You claimed they were responsible because they’re paragon.”

“Clearly you’ve never lost someone to this sort of violence or you wouldn’t be defending them.”

Finch’s blood started to boil at the condescending and accusatory tone Miles took while delivering that statement. But the hacker knew that getting outwardly angry would only make the situation worse, so he collected his thoughts and answered in a strong voice, “Oh, but I do know what you’re going through Mr. Miles, which is the reason I defend them.”

“Now you’ve lost me,” the PI admitted.

“You see violence isn’t restricted to a specific group of people. I lost a dear friend in an explosion much like the one that took your sister’s life not that long ago. The humans responsible for his death never received any retribution, but even if they did it wouldn’t bring my friend back.”

There was no response, at least not at first. Miles started fidgeting with his hands and didn’t even look up to ask, “So is that your advice to me? Give up?”

“It’s not giving up, Mr. Miles. It’s letting go. Dwelling on the past will only make your situation worse, and seeking revenge will only destroy you in the end. Take it from someone who has been down this road before…”

This was Finch being vague, as well as very hypocritical. The truth was that he hadn’t even taken his own advice about moving on two years ago when his friend was killed. The truth was he wasn’t just trying to save the people Miles was planning on going after. No, he was trying to save Miles from falling down the same path he had. The truth was Miles reminded him a lot of himself, and he was going to be the voice of reason he lost in an explosion two years ago.

Miles didn’t have an immediate response to the billionaire’s story. After a few silent seconds of thinking, he settled for a slight topic change, “Ok… hypothetically, if I were to agree to go along with your plan- which I’m not saying I do- what exactly would happen?”

“We would set you up with a new identity and the proper funds to start a new life somewhere else,” Finch answered flatly.

“Where would that ‘somewhere else’ be?”

“California. Close to your parents and far from here. Your flight would leave tomorrow.”

“That… actually sounds like a good plan. Especially considering all that’s happened here.”

“Our thoughts exactly.”

There was another lull in the conversation as Finch turned back to his computer. Not a second later, Reese walked back into the room and informed them, “It’s taken care of.”

“Thank you, Mr. Reese.”

The private investigator took a seat across the table from the eccentric billionaire before asking, “So what do I do now?”

“Until you leave in the morning? Nothing.” Finch responded. “You’ll have a long flight tomorrow. I suggest getting some rest. You can stay here for the night. It probably wouldn’t be wise for you to go home right now. Like you said, we didn’t apprehend the whole gang.”

“I just might take you up on that,” Miles sighed. Almost getting killed takes a lot out of you. That and the fact that it was eleven o’clock at night already added up to exhaustion.

“The bedroom down the hall is open. There’s extra clothes in the dresser if you need them,” Finch informed the young man.

“Not to sound like a broken record but: this place is weird,” Miles laughed. “Thanks, though,” he added as he walked down the hall into the bedroom.

For a minute, nothing was heard except for the clicking of computer keys. Reese hadn’t even noticed he’s just been staring at his boss for a solid thirty until Finch broke the silence, “Why don’t you head home, John? I can wrap things up with Miles here in the morning.”

Reese blinked, “Are you sure you’re going to be ok here?”

“I’ll be fine. Mr. Miles seems to have come to his senses. I don’t think he’s a threat anymore,” the hacker assured.

“That’s not what I meant,” Reese said slowly.

Finch’s fingers froze over the keys and he looked up at his employee with a tense expression on his face. _Please don’t tell me you heard our conversation with our number_ , Finch thought to himself.

Reese elaborated, “I heard what Miles said to you- about losing people to violence.”

“Oh,” Finch sighed.

_And that’s what I was afraid of._

“How much did you hear?” Finch wondered.

“I’d be willing to bet it was more than you wanted me to hear…” Reese replied sheepishly.

Still refusing to respond aloud, Finch thought to himself, _well apparently you heard more than nothing, Mr. Reese, so yes, you heard more than I would have liked._

Reese added, “Just… take care of yourself, Finch,” before letting himself out and leaving his boss to ponder the events of the past few hours.

~~~~~~~~~~

Even though Finch assured Reese that his assistance wasn’t needed in the morning, the ex-op still stopped by the safehouse before their number left. When he arrived, the Man in the Suit couldn’t help but notice that Finch was sitting in the exact same seat he was when he left the night before.

Upon hearing the door open, Finch jumped and said, “Mr. Reese! I thought I told you I would take care of Miles’ situation this morning.”

“You did,” Reese remembered. “But someone had to make sure you slept today.”

“Oh dear. What time is it?” The fugitive asked. Usually not knowing what time it was meant the man hadn’t fallen asleep in a while.

“About eight in the morning,” Reese informed. “Is that your way of admitting you haven’t slept all night?”

“It’s called insomnia, John.”

“I think it’s called staring at a computer screen all night, Harold.”

Clearly, John’s employer was not amused by this comment. John thought it was pretty good. Before Finch could object to Reese’s off-handed humor, the door to the safehouse opened. The person who walked in was none other than Detective Fusco. 

“Am I interrupting something?” the detective assumed.

“You’re always interrupting something, Lionel,” Reese teased.

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you, too,” Fusco answered sarcastically. “I swear, I don’t get paid enough for this crap.”

“We don’t pay you at all, Detective,” Finch pointed out as he stood up and joined Reese and the detective in the living room.

 _Maybe it’s time we change that_ , the detective thought. And of course, Finch had just as liberal a view on how to use his psychic ability as he did on how to use a cell phone microphone.

“If you want a raise, Detective, all you need to do is ask,” Finch said.

“Did you just read my mind again?” Fusco guessed. “I hate it when you do that!”

Reese cracked a smile at his partner’s slight misuse of power.

“So where’s our guy?” The detective asked, changing the subject abruptly.

As if on cue, Miles stepped into the room dressed as if he was ready to walk out the door any second. He must have made use of the spare clothes, as well.

“I’m here,” Miles announced. “Who are you?”

“This is Lionel. He’s uh- a friend,” Reese hesitated.

“Right, just like this guy is your uh- partner,” Miles mimicked.

Reese offered a weak smile rather than an answer.

“Alright, kid. Let’s go,” Lionel interrupted. The detective opened the door and gestured for Miles to hurry up.

The PI turned to Finch and said, “Thank you. For everything.”

Finch just smiled and held out a large brown envelope. Miles took it as Finch explained, “Everything you need is there. New name, new bank account, sufficient funds.”

“You don’t mess around,” Miles observed. “Thanks again. Both of you,” he added, directing his next statement at John. “I’d actually be dead if it weren’t for you.” Turning back to Finch, he acknowledged, “And I’d be… in a bad place right now- to say the least- if it weren’t for you.”

Finch nodded, shaking Miles’ hand. Reese then did the same and the PI disappeared through the door with the detective.

“Do you think he’ll be ok?” Reese wondered aloud.

“An emotional scar like that doesn’t go away easily- as you very well know,” Finch answered. “But I think he’s headed in the direction of recovery.”

 _He’s only headed in that direction because of you_ , Reese thought.

Reese didn’t want that to go through their connection, but Finch used his administrative access to the line to receive it regardless. 

“Your role in his recovery was a little more important than mine, Mr. Reese.”

The ex-op gave the hacker a sideways glance.

“What? You think I only use my element to torture the poor detective?” Finch inquired, turning around and returning to his rightful place at his computer.

The ex-military man didn’t really have a response, except for hoping that the reclusive hacker didn’t read his mind without his knowledge all the time.

With another number saved, the only thing left to do was wait for the next one to come up. When it did, they would be ready. And the cycle would start again.

_**The End.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my strongest finish, but I had a lot of fun writing it! I’ve been toying with the idea of writing another story in this AU that would probably be longer and add in Root and Shaw! If that’s something you’d be interesting in reading or you just want to give me some feedback on this story, feel free to leave a comment! Thanks for reading and have a great week, my fellow Irrelevants :)


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